


Limbo

by exbex



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 10:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: Jeff slips away and locks himself in a stall in the men’s room. The room is spinning, even though he’s been nursing his beers all night. He digs his nails into his palm and lets himself feel angry at the fucking cluelessness of his teammates, at the world’s idiocy, but most of all at himself for letting the old thought process in, the one that wraps around his neck and leaves a chill.Why can’t I just be straight?





	Limbo

“Good enough?”

Everything about Parse’s posture, the way he’s slouched against the back of the sofa, one foot propped up on the coffee table, says that the question is flippant, rhetorical even.

The eyes give him away. They do every time. Parse’s eyes should be heavy-lidded, reflect a sense of satiation, given the good food and decent beer and the fact that, for a few hours, they’d been riding high, not thinking about the million things that are always racing through their minds.

His eyes are wide open and sharp instead, and there’s a tiny hint of that pleading that never quite goes away.

Jeff fantasizes about actually doing what he wants to do, pulling Parse into his arms and kissing him with intent and promise.

Instead, he does what he’s expected to do. “I guess it’ll do,” he smirks, and settles next to Parse on the sofa. “Don’t know what I’m going to do for your birthday now. Hard to top Clippers tickets.”

Parse gives his media smile that everyone else besides Jeff seems to love. “Fireworks, man.”

**

December is still too early in the season for anyone to look worn out, but Parse looks like he’s all sharp edges, as if he’s been scraped with sandpaper. He plays incredibly though, as if he’s got something to prove.

Sometimes it feels as if Jeff is the only one who knows how to put two and two together. He bites the insides of his cheeks to keep from snarling.

**

Kent is usually a decent driver. Once, six years ago, he’d scared the hell out of Jeff as he’d gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, and driven like the devil itself was after him. That’s kind of what it feels like as he watches Kent rush the net, but it doesn’t hit him until hours later, after the scrum and the end of the game, late at night as the plane starts to get quiet.

It’s worse, somehow. Then, he could shout at Kent to slow down. 

**

He’s not supposed to feel relief about getting knocked out of the playoffs. Then again, he’s probably not supposed to feel as old as he does before he’s even thirty.

Kent hasn’t even moved from his stall by the time Jeff has finished showering. Jeff doesn’t say anything as he pulls his clothes on, and then settles in to wait.

The screaming must be inside his head, because Kent doesn’t budge.

**

“Would you look at this beaut?”

Kent’s holding up a massive beast that is apparently supposed to be a cat. Jeff attempts to return the withering look it’s giving, but he knows when he’s been beaten.

“What’s his name?” Jeff hadn’t pegged Kent as a cat person, but it’s likely the only safe question.

“Kent Purrson, Jr.” Kent gently deposits Kent Jr. on the couch and grins as he straightens. “Whattaya think, Swoops?”

“Purrs,” Jeff replies. “Just like Parse. A verb and a nickname.”

Kent laughs and punches him lightly on the arm. “Troy, you’re a fucking nerd.”

**

“Go back to your glory days talk, Carly.”

Jeff and Scraps are the only ones who notice how Kent drains his glass and gets another refill, then a third, then a fourth.

Jeff slips away and locks himself in a stall in the men’s room. The room is spinning, even though he’s been nursing his beers all night. He digs his nails into his palm and lets himself feel angry at the fucking cluelessness of his teammates, at the world’s idiocy, but most of all at himself for letting the old thought process in, the one that wraps around his neck and leaves a chill. _Why can’t I just be straight?_

He lets one small, barely audible sob escape, because the world fucking sucks but also because he’s in love and it hurts.

The room is still spinning when he heads back to the bar, but he slings his arm around Kent’s shoulders with practiced ease. “C’mon, I’m getting us an uber.”

**

Jeff has one moment to wonder why he’s waking up on Kent’s sofa. When he sees both his and Kent’s phones on the coffee table, he knows that he must have shut both of them off last night. He sits up and stares at them, too anxious to turn them on and face reality, too anxious to leave them off and stay in limbo. _Limbo,_ he thinks. _The place between heaven and hell._

He doesn’t know how long he sits there motionless, but he hears Kent shuffle into the living room. “Troy,” he croaks out, “what are you doing here?”

Jeff really does mean to answer with something like _I was too tired so I crashed on your couch_. “I’m gay,” comes out instead.

He expects to see something inscrutable when he looks at Kent, and then wonders why. Kent’s eyes have never been inscrutable, ever. He’s always expressive, his façade always thin and precarious. He wonders how the hell everyone else doesn’t see it. 

“Is that why you’re here?” Kent asks. His eyes are wide and Jeff half wonders why they aren’t bloodshot.

“If you’re asking me if I have feelings for you, then the answer is yes. If you’re asking me if I would be here if I was straight, then the answer is that I don’t know.” He pauses. “Either way, we’re friends.” 

It feels, to Jeff, like the most awkward exchange he’s ever had with Kent. But Kent gives him a half smile. “That was a good answer. Bullshit free. You look like hell. Come to bed; you’ll actually get some decent sleep.”

They leave their phones on the table. Jeff doesn’t even shuck his jeans or shirt before crawling into bed.

“I am too,” Kent says after a moment. Jeff doesn’t ask for clarification.


End file.
